


Guilty Pleasures

by AvaRosier



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Nipple Clamps, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:51:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: When her boyfriend is rabidly anti-Valentine's Day, Betty Cooper realizes she's just going to have to celebrate it herself.Obviously that's not what happens.For the 'Fall In Love With Riverdale' Valentine's Day event (Theme 2: Kinky Love)





	Guilty Pleasures

Betty's known Jughead since last summer, when they shared custody of a specific study table on the third floor of the Bobst Library. Oh, she was interested pretty early on- _very_ interested. But it wasn't until late in the fall semester that they finally started dating. There are things you learn about each other in the early days: what you're both majoring in, what kind of music he's listening to over the headphones he constantly has on, what kind of foods you both like to eat, the precise way his body feels when it's pressed against your own, how you react to the stress of Finals, and so on.

So it makes sense that it's not until she and Jughead sit down with their shared friends for a coffee on a frigid Friday morning, the first of February, that Betty discovers that her boyfriend of two months is really, really, anti-Valentine's Day.

She gets it, on some level. It's definitely a bastardized holiday that exists to prop up rampant consumerism. But then again, aren't most holidays the same way? She could also admit that Valentine's Day gives couples--

“Men, you mean” Veronica says, almost bored, while listening to Jughead rant.

Couples and/or men an excuse to perform romance as if that day is the only day out of the year that they are required to put in the effort. “Flowers, chocolates, dinner, and lingerie,” Jughead lists off his fingers, “it's cliché piled on cliché!”

Betty gets it, but she doesn't entirely agree. She actually loves the general mood and aesthetics of February. The weather sucks- there's got to be something that keeps her going until spring. The 14th of February is that thing.

Especially now that she's twenty-one years old...an actual _Adult_. She works to afford the rent on her postage-stamp of an apartment while finishing up her undergrad degree, and she can afford to spoil herself a little. The adult things she played at as a teenager can be an self-actualized reality.

While she can't begrudge Jughead his opinions on Valentine's Day, it does make her a little sad. They've barely been together two months, and there's a part of Betty that's scared to let him know she does love this crap. It's not that Jughead is never romantic- he is. As a boyfriend he's attentive and giving-- he makes sure she doesn't bury herself in stress, he seduces her with books and movies, and he shows her all the secret spots he's discovered in the city. Experiences are his gift more so than objects.

So Betty makes a decision: she will celebrate Valentine's Day for herself.

First, she splurges on two new bra-and-panty sets that could almost be called lingerie. “That special someone in your life is in for a treat!” the saleslady trills with a conspiratorial grin as she rings Betty's purchases up. Something dull settles in her stomach. She can't even send Jughead a selfie to tease him because the last thing she wants is for him to think she's trying to manipulate him.

Showing him in person would have to wait. Maybe until April, when her birthday comes around.

Her best friend has long been horrified that Betty has made it to such an advanced age never having bought a sex toy. So one night in early February on a winepulse (that's wine+impulse in Veronica-speak), she places an order for a rabbit vibrator and, with an extra dose of grape-courage, nipple clamps.

Jughead is a very good lover, don't get her wrong, but Betty is also a big believer in doing things on her own that would validate her sexuality as a thing in itself, not reliant on a partner.

“Men, you mean,” Veronica murmurs, sounding more than a little vicious this time. Reggie had done something dumb and at the moment Veronica is indisposed towards the male species as a whole.

Valentine's Day is gray, gray, gray, which Betty finds oddly romantic. The fog and light rain that envelopes the city hides all manner of sins and she hopes Jughead gets a chance to capture it with his camera at some point in between his classes. After her 11:30 a.m. Culture Vulture class, Betty is free the rest of the day and she's already prepared for tomorrow's class, so she decides to get started on her festivities.

She buys herself some inexpensive purple hyacinths then ducks into Whole Foods to pick up a nice already-prepared meal that she only has to pop into the oven. Treating herself does not involve cooking for herself. She even grabs some wine and a fancy treat.

Back in her apartment, Betty arranges the flowers in the one vase she owns and opens a window to let the cool breeze bring the perfume wafting towards her while she takes a shower then begins to primp. She does her hair up nice, her makeup is downright stunning if she says so herself, and puts on one of her new bra and panty sets, the pale green satin and cream lace, under a sexy but understated black dress. With a few candles lit and a glass of wine poured, she is finally able to settle down and eat her beef tips in a burgundy sauce with green beans and mashed sweet potatoes.

Of course she picks up her phone and checks social media. Betty may not begrudge Jughead his antipathy towards Valentine's Day, but it doesn't make it any easier to open up Instagram and see everyone's Stories about the romantic things they are doing with their sweethearts. A nice dinner, heartfelt captions under a picture of them kissing, flowers and/or chocolates. Even Veronica sends her a picture of some fuzzy purple handcuffs. Betty feels reasonably certain Reggie is the one who is going to be punished tonight.

At some point Betty has to put her phone down before she becomes depressed. And then she hates herself for being depressed over something so materialistic and stupid.

It's just a 'Keeping Up With The Jon--'

“For fuck's sake,” she curses, picking up the phone again.

Out of spite, she takes pictures of herself, some with the dress on and some without, posing herself around her bedroom. Betty decides likes the way she looks in the selfies- very assured. Jughead will definitely be seeing these...in April.

Lounging on her bed with her wineglass and her phone, Betty starts scrolling through the dedicated folder she has for the pictures Jughead has taken of her and the ones she's taken of them. Just looking at some of the earliest ones makes her remember how she felt during those shoots, and that is doing more to arouse her than reading erotica would right now.

He photographed her nude before they even went on their first date.

She pauses on a photo with her bared to the waist, making eye contact with Jughead through the mirror. She'd felt so daring- it was the thrill she had been chasing years before when she was a cheerleader and when she'd had those misguided forays into the world of webcamming- her exhibitionist proclivities finally finding the perfect expression. Betty could remember the exact moment she had the epiphany: _we are going to fuck, just not today or even tomorrow, but we are going to fuck._ And even with Jughead giving her commands (which she discovered did turn her on), Betty felt like she had the power when she chose what to show or not show, when to look at him and how to look at him.

Sometimes photography is like foreplay for them.

Just thinking about how electric their first time together was is enough for Betty to set her wineglass and phone down and lay down on her back, slipping her hand underneath the band of her panties.

Before she can even touch herself, there's a knock on the front door.

Betty lets out a groan of frustration, rushing to pull on her fuzzy robe and pad out into the living room. A glance through the peephole has her rocking back onto her heels in trepidation. She undoes the latch and the deadbolt, pulling the door open.

“Jug?”

Her boyfriend is mid-pace, frowning at the floor as if it's personally offended him. He's wearing a gray sweater beneath his Sherpa jacket, no plaid, and his suspenders hang loosely around his thighs. At the sound of her voice, he looks up and freezes. “Betts?” The shock Betty sees on his face is extremely flattering, but his unannounced presence has her worried.

“Did- is something wrong?” she asks.

“ _No_. It's nothing bad at all,” he insists, stopping the upswell of anxiety within her. “I just...can I come in? I don't want to give your neighbors free gossip.”

She nods and backs away from the doorway so he can enter. Locking up after him, Betty moves to where he's standing awkwardly in the space between the kitchen counter and the couch. His hair is fully hidden underneath his gray crown beanie, a sure sign he's been anxiously taking it off and putting it back on.

“So...” she begins.

“So, it's Valentine's Day,” Jughead announces.

Betty can't help her smirk then. “I think the aggressive presence of red, white, and pink all over the city today made that clear.”

The exasperated glare he shoots her is tempered by a faint grin. “Cute. If I tell you I was doing some thinking, will you imply that's a novel development?”

 _This_ , this is how it is between them. She loves the playful banter they share, how matching wits with Jughead makes her feel closer to him, like she's found someone she wasn't aware she was even looking for. When she steps up to him and links her fingers behind his neck, his arms wrap around the small of her back.

“I'm not going to answer that because I don't think your ego needs any more stroking, Mr. Gresham Award Winner.”

Whatever worry has brought him here seems to melt from his shoulders. “Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Betty Cooper. You know I'll gladly accept each and any form of stroking you choose to give me.”

The faint tendrils of her arousal flare up again. “You were saying something about Valentine's Day?”

“There I was, sitting on my raggedy couch, about to put on _Rebel Without A Cause_ -”

“-without me?”

“-when I realized I didn't really want to be watching it without you, not even for the sake of extending a metaphorical middle finger to the Corporations.”

That just might be the sweetest thing anybody's ever said to her. “So we have to canoodle because we can't let the corporations win?” she teases him.

He's laughing as he kisses her, and he's a very skilled kisser. His kisses have a way of making the world around her disappear and the air suddenly thick and hot.

Pulling back, Jughead jerks his chin in the direction of the candles and the empty meal container sitting at the counter. “Looks like you had Valentine's Day plans yourself.” His tone is carefully neutral, he's clearly sensed that he's interrupted something he hadn't known about.

Hiding her love for the holiday suddenly seems so very silly. She's falling ponytail-over-heels for Jughead Jones, and if she wants their relationship to continue to mature, she's going to have to get used to revealing herself to him. Even if it's not something he can share, she should have enough faith in him to accept her, quirks and warts and all, and give her the space to do the things that make her happy.

“I suppose we're at a point in our relationship where you find out my deep, dark secrets. I'm a bit of a Valentine's Day freak, if you must know.”

One eyebrow cocks higher. “Are you now?”

She nods. “You've seen how I get for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas...”

“Don't forget New Year's.”

“You ate the entire pan, how can you be complaining?”

“Oh, I'm not complaining. I love how dedicated you are to festivities.” And just like that, Betty knows with a bone-deep certainty that the first time she tells someone she loves them, it is going to be this man. Not tonight, maybe not soon, but it is going to be him. “So, tell me how Betty Cooper does Valentine's Day.”

“Well, she gets herself a bottle of wine and a nice dinner, obviously.”

“A necessity for any holiday.” She hums in agreement.

Taking Jughead's hand, she leads him into her bedroom. “She buys herself some beautiful, but cheap flowers.”

“Very wise in this economy.”

He spots the boxes on the chair in the corner. With his attention to detail, she had known he would. “And what about _these_?” He holds up the boxes with the vibrator and the nipple clamps with a devilish grin. She shrugs with faux nonchalance.

“Betty Cooper works hard, it's only fair she gets to play hard, too.”

“It's very pink,” he says of the vibrator.

“They were all out of the blue plaid.”

He sets down the vibrator and opens up the box with the nipple clamps. They clink as they fall into his palm. “I feel like we should discuss this.”

“I saw these gifs from Tumblr, they probably originally came from a porn film, but the idea made me really curious. Plus they were on sale.”

He's just standing there, rubbing his thumb over the metal as he studies her. And she's just standing there, three feet away, watching him watch her wanting him to do all manner of things to her.

“Do you think about me putting these on you?” he asks with the most innocuous tone of voice.

They've been dating for one month and twenty-seven days, and they've been having sex for one month and twenty-five days. There are things they've learned about each other: how Jughead will position her on top because they both like it when her hips are free to move however she wants, how Betty has the most powerful orgasm of her life right after he murmurs 'Good Girl' in her ear, how when she straddles his shoulders and orders him to eat her out, Jughead will give her a filthy, defiant grin before he proceeds to make the sharp edges of her self bleed into the space around them.

He's looking at her like that right now.

“Yes.”

When he sets the clamps down on her desk and starts removing his coat and sweater, leaving him in his tank and jeans, Betty swears her chest constricts. They are going to do this, they are really going to do this. Once his beanie lays discarded on the desk next to the clamps, Jughead comes for her. With their height difference, he looms over her, cupping her jaw and giving her a tingling, thorough kiss.

Before his hands can sneak underneath her robe, Betty pushes lightly against his chest, encouraging him to sit down on her bed. “I'm glad you wanted to spend tonight with me, Juggie, it makes me feel less guilty,” she murmurs once she finds her voice. Even she is surprised by how low and velvety smooth it sounds.

Before Jughead can finish saying “You have nothing to feel guilty about”, Betty unties her robe and lets it fall to the floor. “I'm glad because it means I don't have to wait until my birthday to show you this.”

“You cruel, cruel temptress. And me without my camera,” he groans, fingering the lace at her hips almost reverently.

“I'll send you the ones I took.” She steps away only to pick up the clamps and dangle them in front of Jughead. “Now, how about that discussion?”

 

 

Perhaps a half-hour has passed, and Betty is perched sideways on Jughead's lap; it's one of the simple kinks she's discovered she has when it comes to him. That and maybe being partially bared while he is clothed. He has since divested her of her bra, leaving her to sit there with panties that feel like they are soaked through. From the way Jughead's hands clench uncertainly before they settle solidly on her knee and hip, he likes this too. His hands on her certainly make her feel secure...and brave.

The one hand that had been on her hip lifts and Jughead combs his fingers through the length of her hair. A shiver starts at the back of her scalp before working its way through her shoulders and down her spine. The calluses on his thumb grazes her collarbone and over the skin where her neck and shoulder meet. Down her back it lazily glides while his other hand rests maddeningly still on her thigh. Betty knows her nipples are visibly hard and she sighs, trying not to squirm too much, wishing desperately that he would just touch her breasts already.

Jughead leans closer to murmur against the sensitive whorl of her ear, “Are you ready?”

“ _Yes_.”

The metal of the chain is cold as it trails across her leg. The air seems thick as she waits patiently, anticipation making her muscles tense.

Jughead captures one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a light pluck that sends darts of desire shooting down her body all the way to her clit. Betty whimpers. Another pluck and then cold metal closes around the distended nub. The shock of sensation is enough to rent a shuddering moan from her, mind going blank for the two seconds it takes Jughead to close the matching clamp over her other nipple, the delicate chain connecting the clamps brushing against her upper abdomen. With a light flick, the small weights dangle and flood her breasts with sensation.

The pain-pleasure is  _exquisite._

Perhaps unconsciously, she squirms in Jughead's lap, needing more, needing anything. He cups her jaw and encourages her to turn her head so he can kiss her softly. Even this simple sweetness is magnified and her lips tingle. “Good girl, you take them so well,” he tells her.

After that, she's lost; time out of mind. Jughead removes the rest of his clothes and slides on a condom before helping her to straddle him on the full mattress. Every small movement makes the weights swing, which in turn sets her nerve endings on fire. She lets out a helpless moan as she sinks onto his cock, which he soothes with a whispered 'it's okay baby' and 'I got you'. She's like one heavy ball of need and now that he's filling her up, she needs even more.

“Now,” he says with a more insistent voice. “Ride me.”

And she does, knowing that she's so close to release, but with the nipple clamps adding zings of pain-pleasure that increase with each larger movement, Betty has to brace her hands against Jughead's shoulders and take him all the way inside her until her clit is touching the base of his cock. She grinds against him there, clenching around him as she rocks and rotates her hips in abandon, unable to think of anything but reaching that peak.

She gives herself over to it, then, allowing her breasts to bounce. It hurts so good. "Hair!" She gasps. He's quick to react, sliding a hand into her hair and pulling hard enough to make hundreds of pinpricks of pleasure dance over her scalp. 

She falls over the edge then.

 

Later, after he's removed the clamps and lightly massaged her aching breasts, and after he's kissed her and let her nuzzle her cheek against his shoulder, Jughead lies her down on the bed and fucks her, slow and hard, until she breaks apart like a wave into the mattress and his body is left trembling on top of hers.

 

 

Later still, after Betty has used her thumb to wipe the sheen she left on his lips after he brought her to a sharp, squirming orgasm with his tongue between her thighs, she pads out of her room and into the kitchen on unsteady legs. When she returns, her boyfriend is still where she left him, lying completely naked on her bed, head resting on one crooked arm. She straddles his hips and places a styrofoam container on his chest. Every muscle in her body feels like it's been wrung out, but beyond her satisfaction, she's _happy_.

"What's this?" Jughead mumbles, sounding half-asleep.

"Dessert."

"Technically, I already had dessert."

"True, but you'll still eat some of this dessert." She pops open the container to reveal one massive slice of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. In fact, it's so chocolatey it's obscene. 

Jughead lets out a small moan. She does know him well. "Here," she scoops up a chunk with the spoon and feeds it to him before doing the same for herself. “And besides, we both know that come tomorrow, you'll be buying up all the Valentine's Candy at Duane Reade like a cheap hypocrite.”

“Guilty as charged.”

After the cake is half eaten and Betty has carefully poured some wine from her glass into his mouth, Jughead lifts his head off his arm. “You know, I could be persuaded to see some merit in celebrating Valentine's Day with you next year.” The fact that Jughead sees them as lasting another year makes something warm and gooey grow in Betty's chest.

And it's not just the chocolate cake.

“You'd do that?”

He shoots her a crooked grin. “You can get me to do a great many things, Betty Cooper, or hadn't you noticed?”


End file.
